


Lose Control

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Detailed Memories, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, M/M, Mentions of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 17:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Kojuro learns over the course of several years that his resolve is not nearly as strong as he thinks.





	Lose Control

Kobayakawa Hideaki had turned traitor and both armies were in turmoil. Even now Kojuro could see Lord Ieyasu there at the edge of his perch, eyes trained unrelentingly on the battlefield – yet he did not seem distressed in the slightest. He’s finally gone forwards, Ieyasu had said, and he seemed strangely happy with this turn of events – but not because his adversary had lost one of his generals.

“I believe he was afraid of Lord Mitsunari,” Ieyasu said, as if he was able to read Kojuro’s mind, “when I visited him, he was in most dire distress.” 

“Then why wait until now?” Masamune was not dismissive – if there was one thing that Kojuro knew about his Lord it was that even as aloof as he sometimes sounded, he was attentive indeed and vigilantly so. It was a valid question – why would Hideaki have forgone the potential protection of Lord Ieyasu and his army by waiting until the last second? Had it really been so sudden of a decision? 

“I believe the answer to that lies in the center of the field.” 

Without stopping for even a second to check his own reaction, Kojuro snatched up a glass from a nearby soldier – one of Ieyasu’s – and trained it towards the great chasm in the field. There. There was his answer – a poisonous, sickly aura rising from the very ground itself, following and clinging to the one swaying, pale figure in the middle of it all and oh gods above it couldn’t be. Kojuro blinked hard – he was almost certain he’d been mistaken, but sure enough there he _was_ and Kojuro’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. Lord Hideaki’s mysterious advisor, standing tall while bending like a river reed hair paler than the moon itself he looked like a creature risen from the grave, blood running in rivulets down his arms. The men on the battlefield, faceless from this distance, scattered like birds at his approach, fearsome and uncanny and not of this world.

Kojuro saw it otherwise, and with a much _different_ type of fear, the kind that froze a person down to their very bones, so deep and piercing that there was nowhere left for the mind and the spirit to hide.

He remembered, even though it had been years ago. That night when they had made camp, when all was quiet save for the muted chattering of the few men that were still awake. Lord Masamune, as he had thought at that time, was among them – but it hadn’t mattered in any case, because then the flap to his tent had opened and like a serpent, _that_ man slid right on in. Kojuro remembered the smirk he’d had on his face, and even now as he stood on the ledge overlooking the chasm, he shivered. Sinister to the core. _Oh my, Lord Masamune has vanished off?_

How he’d snuck into the camp without raising a single alarm, Kojuro did not know – how could this eerie creature have surpassed every sentry, every guard, every last man that was still awake and sober? But it mattered not now – he was unarmed and could not say the same for Mitsuhide. He had to keep him here. To keep him from leaving and finding his Lord until something could be done, something that could happen faster than Akechi would have been able to dart away like a ghost, just like he had after destroying the dam and flooding the village below.

You will not find him here, Akechi Mitsuhide, and much to his surprise he had not received any sort of retaliation.

Just that laugh.

I suppose I shall have to find him _oh no you don’t_ he’d reached out and seized Mitsuhide by the shoulder, spinning him around and wrenching him back, away from the entrance with all of his strength – he hadn’t cared that he could have died in the process. That wicked curved blade remained dormant at Mitsuhide’s side. You believe you can stop me? I must stop you. He’d tightened his grip, his fingers nearly closing all the way around Mitsuhide’s upper arm spirits above he'd almost quite _literally_ risen from the dead.

_You died at Honnoji._

He’d made that sound, there in the tent with Kojuro, the same one that he would later make as he was incinerated – supposedly – within the remains of his own treachery. He’d moaned and Kojuro, for all the pride he’d held over his own control of will, saw nothing but red. The tenacity the villainous nature of this man who had nearly killed Masamune to come into the camp of the Date army without so much as a scratch and how victorious he’d looked at Midaigawa even when subjugated.

Kojuro would rip that smirk off of his face with his bare hands if he had to – his bare hands were all that he _had._

He’d reached out, grabbing Mitsuhide’s throat faster than he himself had even anticipated and Mitsuhide squirmed, choking and gasping and near laughing how dare he _how dare he_ Kojuro threw him to the ground with the intent to destroy, to shatter his bones and Mitsuhide lunged forwards, wrapping his arm around Kojuro’s legs and bringing him toppling down right overtop him. 

You cannot outpace me, Right Eye of the Dragon. Like a snake he’d reared up from the ground, nearly pressing their faces together only to snag Kojuro’s lip in his own teeth – hard. The taste of blood his own shout of fury the slap that he’d brought down on his face – hard, with the intent to demolish. Mitsuhide had laughed. He’d torn at his own clothing with clawed gloves, writhing languidly beneath him like a cat in heat and Kojuro, Kojuro had _helped_ him. It was about power nothing more nothing more he had to show Mitsuhide just _whose_ territory he was in had to shut him up for good and in lieu of his own weapons – too far away for him to reach before Akechi would kill him in seconds and then slither out to seek Lord Masamune – seeing him reduced to a drooling mess was an adequate substitute. 

How fortunate I am, the demands for _more_ had never stopped and Kojuro tore at his pale hair, scratched deep down his back and shoulders until he broke flesh until he drew blood but that was only what he wanted it was like fighting a creature, a demon who could not would not die. He’d thrust back just as hard he’d bitten down on the fingers that Kojuro had jammed into his mouth, wicked tongue working in swirls as they fought yet again to lay waste to one another.

“Kojuro.” Lord Masamune sounded irked – what was taking so long, he was probably wondering. For all Kojuro knew he was about to be ordered onto the front lines, prepared to strike down the joint forces of the Takeda and the Ishida but right now he couldn’t even remember how to breathe. Akechi Mitsuhide had laughed in the face of death itself – or perhaps sending him to his own realm hadn’t had the intended effect – and returned to haunt this world, and him. Even after that encounter and after Kojuro had caught his breath, feeling more dazed and sated than he ever had before, Mitsuhide still had won. Kojuro had _ravaged_ him with brutality he did not know he was capable of and then just like that Mitsuhide had vanished. There was no commotion outside, no shouts of alarm, he even heard Lord Masamune’s voice as he strode past, blissfully unaware of the danger that had been so near. Kojuro had stayed close to his Lord that night, sword nearby, as a precaution for a disaster that had never come. “I said to ready the men.”

“My apologies, Lord Masamune.” My apologies for letting one man shake me down when I have sworn myself to you. My apologies for letting him invade my thoughts. “I shall make preparations immediately for our advance.” It was with difficulty that he looked away from Akechi Mitsuhide to do just that. And he could have sworn, in those last few seconds, that from all the way across the chasm, Mitsuhide had stared back – right through him, as if it was effortless. As it always _had_ been.


End file.
